Erebus on the Cusp of Dawn
by Hic Iacet Mori
Behind the carefree roll of cloud is the somber drop of rain, behind the pure white of snow is the absolute black of night. Behind every straight path is the bend in the road, bringing with it the promise of both night and day. What is ahead is uncertain, what is beyond is unknown, but what is certain and known is the need for faith and hope—there will be clouds, there will be rain, there will be white and there will be black, but past the bend in the road is a treasure worth the long rainy night.
She's not coming.
The unspoken words echoed in the room, rolling around him like malevolent spirits waiting to be named to unleash its fury. He steadfastly refused to form those words in his mind, refused to let them past his lips to frolic like mad sprites in the cold moonless evening—her arrival was a question of when, not if, and he was careful to repeat it in his head.
Sasuke stood by his window, his face a perfect blank, his mind focusing on his impatience—better than the worry, better than the fear, infinitely better than the bitter sting steadily drilling at his chest—as his eyes sought to discern the darkness of the shadows from the darkness of the night. She's coming, was his mantra, because if he repeated something long enough, it would come true.
It just had to.
"She's coming," he said out loud. Sasuke would believe the echoes in his room.
He didn't know how long he stood—he only knew that every trickling second twisted in his gut. He shifted to his other foot, wincing as pins and needles shot up his leg, and waited once again. He was patient. He could wait. Sasuke was very good at waiting patiently.
Once upon a time he had wondered at the reality of his existence, going through the motions of living as the world turned on its axis. Once upon a time he had wondered if he was alive to begin with, if the monochrome silence he was in was his coffin or his prison. Once upon a time he existed with the emptiness of a clock, his actions unchanging, always moving forward until he was moving backward, his pace constant, his path straight to nowhere. And once upon a time she came, on a moonlit night in a cemetery, a defiant flame in the glaring darkness—and Sasuke realized that all that waiting he didn't know he'd been doing all his life was well worth a flicker of her smile.
It was the smile in her eyes that Sasuke last saw.
Hours. They spent hours knowing the secrets of their bodies until he didn't know where his skin ended and hers began. Sasuke had the pleasure of enacting his favorite fantasies on a very willing Naruto, who was herself uninhibited in bed and, like she warned, full of stamina. It was a delight to him—she wasn't a mere passive participant anymore, a lot of times even seizing control from him and teaching him, going so far as to wear his reading glasses. He had always been more intelligent than his peers and Sasuke learned quite fast—too fast, for her liking, as she had ended up screaming like he had promised when he jumped her on his desk, blue-rimmed glasses and hazy blue eyes and all.
He might have to get his laptop fixed, though...
It was really fortunate that he lived at the edge of the village, though he had immediately realized he wouldn't have minded if others heard—the better, Sasuke thought, for others to know to back the fuck off her. Hell, he wouldn't even mind an exhibition, if that would give every guy within a couple of feet of her shadow the right idea.
Damn. He was finally showing his possessive streak...
Sasuke gave up first, too spent, too sated, to go on. It was a sweet defeat because he finally got to do what he'd wanted to do for a long time now—pull her into his arms and inhale himself on her skin. He smirked at the marks he had left on her skin, and she must have felt his smugness that she reached a hand back and knocked him upside the head with deadly accuracy. Then, she turned around until they were staring at each other, and Sasuke could see how much her eyes were wide and blue and full of smiles.
Her eyes were twinkling skies of fireflies—they shone so much and it took Sasuke's breath away. His heart was brimming with so much love for her, he felt it would burst at the seams. His eyes were bare for her to see how it ached him to feel so much.
And then quietly, suddenly, the silver shine in her eyes overflowed and fell down her cheeks.
Sasuke couldn't call it crying. She didn't burst into tears, or sobbed her heart our, or wept—it was simply like a cloud suddenly passing over a village, bringing gentle rain with it to cool a humid afternoon and leaving just as suddenly. She didn't look fragile or weak or vulnerable and the smile in her lips remained bows of pink against the honey of her skin, and when she spoke, there was no tremor in her voice, no falter in her tone. Had he not seen it happen before his eyes, Sasuke would have thought that nothing was out of the ordinary.
It hurt him as much as it humbled him—she was letting him see this side of her and Sasuke kissed her, tenderly, until her eyes drifted shut and the tears ceased flowing from her eyes. He drew her to his chest and caressed her back, humming under his breath with the quiet assurance that she could cry on him, always, something in him wondering sadly at what she had gone through to lost the ability to let go, and then her hand landed to where his heart was and he looked down to see her looking up at him.
Like the clouds rolling past on an early morning summer sky, the sun was rising once again in her eyes.
Sasuke would never tire of seeing it.
Then, as if she held the golden sands of Morpheus in the pockets of her fingers, she shifted and covered his dark eyes with her hand. Her smile was the last he saw and next Sasuke knew, soft gold was flooding inside his room and she was nowhere in sight.
He didn't let it bother him. He was too happy—Sasuke couldn't pass by his bed and not break into a grin. He had replaced his bedsheets with clean ice blue ones and a proud smile on his face, before skipping with as much dignity as he could down the stairs to fix himself breakfast. Sun rays spilled from the kitchen window and the floating dusts in their circle reminded him of the spill of yellow stars that were Naruto's hair.
Sasuke had spent the early morning eating his cereal and savoring her kisses with his vivid memory. He couldn't stop going over what happened last night, and it was only an accidental glance at his watch that informed him he only have twenty minutes left to reach school. He was ten minutes late to class—fortunately, there was an emergency faculty meeting that lasted fifteen minutes and he wasn't marked down for tardiness.
The day passed by in a flurry of daydreams of the special night they had together and what were to come next. Sasuke wanted to wake up in a room flooded with morning light and her warmth to his chest, always, and he decided that he would ask her to live with him from now on. He would carefully explain that he was worried about her, where she went off to, what she did and who she did it with, and that he wouldn't demand anything of her she couldn't give. He would insist it was more convenient for her, that it would be more cost effective, that it would give her a chance to settle into a normal life and even go to school. As a last resort, he would tell her, gruffly, that it would make him feel less alone.
A sound plan, he believed.
His teachers had commented on his improved appearance and even some of his friends had wondered at the abrupt change, with a particularly loud classmate announcing that Uchiha Sasuke had finally gotten laid. Sasuke ignored them, as usual, discreetly making sure that his scarf hid the constellation of hickeys on his neck—he didn't feel too different, in all honesty, though his heart felt lighter and he felt like laughing at random moments. The difference was perhaps great to outsiders, though, because even his fan girls burst into tears as he walked through the lobby, wailing that their prince had finally found his princess and all was lost.
There was some truth there, perhaps, but to Sasuke, everything was in its right place.
He was really excited to get home, unlike before when he tried to do as much after-school activities as he could, conscious of the emptiness that would greet him when he returned. A second after the bell announced dismissal, Sasuke was out of the room and running to the parking lot, and minutes later he was pedaling away from school in his bicycle. For the first time, he contemplated upon the wisdom of getting his own car.
He had stopped by a ramen stand that a chubby friend swore to, and Sasuke bought ten miso pork ramen, take-out. He knew she would come at her usual hour and the ramen would be cold, but he could always reheat them. He had also dropped by the groceries to buy chocolates, a carton of milk, and fresh tomatoes. Lastly, Sasuke had his house key copied. He used the five-minute wait to scan his mind for a good movie to watch.
Returning home, Sasuke changed to his house clothes and cleaned his already immaculate living room. He had a light dinner and relaxed in front of the TV with its constant news of dead politicians and conspiracies before switching to a channel featuring the natural cruelty of dolphins. With the soothing unaccented voice of the narrator, Sasuke soon fell into a light doze.
He awoke, ten minutes to ten, and he hurriedly went to his room and stripped down to his boxers. Sasuke grabbed his reading glasses and crossword puzzle book then jumped on his bed. He realized that he forgot his pen and he quickly rose to get one from his desk, then jumped back to bed feigning a look of utmost concentration.
Then ten in the evening rolled around and she wasn't there. Sasuke thought she was probably late. She had never been late before but there's always a first time.
Ten minutes turned to thirty, then forty-five, and then it was eleven. He was pacing before the window by then. His radio clock announced it was midnight.
She's coming.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. His initial annoyance had turned to worry, which turned to uncertainty and finally, anger. Sasuke would clock her when she came. She better have a good excuse and he wouldn't accept traffic.
He yawned. No, can't sleep yet. She's coming. He had to wait.
She'll come.
Sasuke woke up from a restless sleep, still somewhat standing by the window. He spied the lightening skies and glanced at his clock—it was four in the morning, the time he woke up to feel her absence. He recalled last night, their arms wrapped around each other, his chin on her hair as she sighed in her sleep, recalled his elation at having her willing and soft in his arms, the peace, the completion, and recalled the bittersweet feeling of finding his arms looped around a pillow imprinted with her scent. He knew in the deepest corners of his mind that she had left, again, at four in the morning, but Sasuke had been too happy to let it affect him.
Now, though—
He yawned and straightened up, his wakening eyes taking in the purple skies. He threw on a black shirt and a pair of blue sweatpants as his mind came to a conclusion. He swiftly left his house with a black jacket thrown carelessly over his shoulders, mindless of the chilly winter morning air and the light drizzle that had started to fall.
The only cold he could feel was from the fear in his heart.
Sasuke reached the cemetery and his steps became faster, turning into a full run. He only had one destination in mind and he hoped, desperately hoped, that there was nothing to be seen. That it was nothing. That he was wrong.
He stopped.
It was bitter, cold. It was all the dark things, the cruel things, the painful things, all the stinging void of the world.
It hurt.
He lifted his face to the heavens, at each drop of rain falling gently from the sky. He wondered, faintly, how she could enjoy the rain. Because here, standing in the farthest corner of the cemetery, under the light kisses of a winter rain with only a fresh head of cabbage on a headstone for company—
Sasuke couldn't.
Three days. Three days since that confession, three days since that rejection—because it clearly was, in light of the gray colors of that early morning drizzle, and his heart throbbed with ache when he sighted anything green—and he had seen neither hide nor hair of the girl who had claimed his fucking foolish heart even without trying.
It was seriously pissing him off.
His glare was especially deadly at the person who stood on the other side of his door, knocking like a child with all the time in the world. The first knock was a loud yell in his quiet weekend afternoon, and after his heart stopped racing to the beat of her name, he realized that it couldn't have been Naruto because she preferred ninja'ing her way through the window and he suspected that she wouldn't give him the courtesy of knocking if she ever decided to use his door. If it were her, she would simply kick his door down and casually inform him that he needed a new one, preferably orange.
The knocks were getting especially more annoying, rapping in tune to some cursed music. His mouth was set in a snarl when he opened it, his glower chillier at the cheerful-looking familiar stranger waving a box in his face.
"A package for you, Sasuke," the idiot announced unnecessarily. It was the nameless cop who had arrived at his doorstep one day to inform him that his brother was dead.
No, not dead. Killed.
"Don't address me so familiarly," he snapped, not in the mood for politeness. He made to grab the small package but the man danced away from his reach, even chuckling when Sasuke followed. He growled when the bastard twirled around. "I'm not in the fucking mood for this!"
The stupid cop made a tutting sound, the strange mismatched eyes curving. "You shouldn't accept so quickly. What would Itachi say?"
He lunged at the man, enraged. "Fuck you!" he roared.
"Sorry, I'm taken."
"Die!"
He managed to grab the hand holding the package, grim triumph flaring within him. Next his face was digging on his doorjamb and it was such a familiar position that all the fight drained out of him.
Damn it, dobe. Where the hell are you?
"Maa, you have such a temper," the cop commented lightly behind him. "Complete opposite of reports about you."
His eyes widened.
"There, calmer," the man went on, "here's your package. Itachi left this for you."
"Now if you're watching this, it means Kakashi had done his job... Another package will arrive in a few days and I want you to use it well once you have achieved your goal to be a detective."
"You're Nii-san's superior," Sasuke said. "Hatake Kakashi."
The man simply gave him a lazy stare, not even surprised at his revelation. Now that Sasuke was studying the cop, he noticed a few things. The cop—undercover ANBU—had strange white hair that was a silvery gray at a deeper inspection. His right eye was a dark shade of gray, his left an eerie crimson with a scar vertically running over it. His mask covered half of his face and extended below, covering his neck and it seemed, even his shoulders, a dark navy blue which blended oddly well with his dark green coat, black trousers, and black shoes.
It was rare to see a cop in dress uniform. It was rarer to see a cop in Konoha. Since he and his brother came to this quiet village from Tokyo three years ago, Sasuke hadn't seen a police officer until three months ago.
"Done checking me out?" Hatake Kakashi asked idly. Sasuke replied with an icy glare, angry that this man always seemed to bring bad news, always come at a wrong time. He stepped back and made to slam the door in the bastard's face, but the older man straightened up and stopped him with a well-timed hold on his shoulder. He growled and the ANBU let go.
"Use it wisely," Kakashi said. "It's Itachi's favorite. His partner made it for him."
His head shot up, the cold anger in his eyes vanishing. "You mean Naruto?" he asked. He couldn't quite conceal the hope in his voice. "Do you know where she is?"
"No idea," Kakashi replied. Only the sudden intensity in the mismatched eyes stopped him from throttling the man, ANBU or not. "It's getting late," he continued, almost thoughtful. "Sleep well tonight."
"Bad things tend to happen at night, y'know."
Sasuke jerked forward. "Tell me," he demanded.
The cop gave a two-finger salute, his eyes curving. "Ja."
Kakashi turned around, his footfalls swift yet oddly measured. Completely at odds with Sasuke's heartbeat.
"Wait!"
But the man, seconds ago standing on his doorsteps, was just gone.
He returned inside and slammed the door shut. He swiftly opened the box, his fingers trembling from some unknown emotion. He almost dropped the box in shock.
It was a gun.
Some time between midnight and daybreak, Uchiha Sasuke made his way to the cemetery.
He barely noticed the distance, his mind only in his goal. He wanted to see the proof of her devotion to his deceased brother and maybe with it, he could start letting go.
Sasuke didn't want to. Fuck, how his heart fought against it. But his mind knew that if this kept up, her coming back to the cemetery while purposefully not coming back to him... he knew it meant that whatever they could have together held no significance to her at all.
And damn, she should have rejected him outright. She should have flat-out denied him. She shouldn't have come to him, she shouldn't have given him hope. She shouldn't have stopped coming only to let him find out for himself that she was still coming to the cemetery, to his brother. To Itachi.
He shouldn't have—shouldn't have—
Sasuke sighed. It was doomed from the start, this thing between them. It was his brother who brought them together, and it made sense that it was still him who would tear them apart. He made the mistake of falling in love with the girl his brother loved, of falling in love with the girl who loved a ghost. His brother had never competed with him, had never once made him feel less of a person than Itachi was, but even when he was alive, Sasuke knew he was nothing compared to his brother. Now, in death, there was no way he could win against his brother, against a ghost—a ghost is blameless and could do no wrong, and creates the fondest of memories in a person's mind even when most are now simply rose-hued fabrications of a lonely heart.
Sasuke had been a replacement. He had known, at the back of his mind, that she saw his brother, felt his brother, dreamt of his brother everytime they were together even before she had confessed it to him. He had been a replacement and he had willingly allowed himself to be used, because he himself was using her to ease the ache in his heart, the void left by his brother that only she could fill. Because he was selfish and he wanted her, because he was weak and he needed her, because he was insane and he loved her. Because she was Uzumaki Naruto and he was Uchiha Sasuke, and she had taken a part of him and he wasn't whole without her anymore.
He chuckled humorlessly. What a fine mess he had gotten himself into.
"It's not really the best for you, knowing me."
She was right. And now, here he was in the place where he first saw her. It was a fitting end, he mused, that everything ended in this cemetery. Sasuke knew, though, that he was fooling himself. He could never bury the memory of her—she would become the ghost that he would always come back to, the ghost that he would always love. When he returned to the cemetery after this night, it would always be for her.
It was his brother's plushie that made him decide to drop by the cemetery. Sasuke had been pacing in his room like he had been doing since the first night of her absence, and a chance glance on his bureau caught the beady eyes of the plushie. He had crossed the room to pick it up, wondering faintly why it was on the left side when he remembered placing it on the right. Savagely poking the innocent plushie showed him an almost unseen run in its flabby stomach—Sasuke thought that the seams must have come undone a time ago. The thread was of a lighter color than the other seams and he realized that Itachi must have tried to mend it. His brother had always been mending.
Sasuke wondered if this visit would mend them or tear him and her apart for good. After crawling past the hole in the eastern wall, he patted himself down without thought before his feet carried him to his brother's resting place by habit. His breath unconsciously caught as he drew nearer, and he released his breath in surprise at what he saw.
The cabbage was rotten.
He crouched down, eyes disbelieving. The expected exhilaration at this discovery didn't come. He was too alarmed to be hopeful.
"Dobe, what the hell happened to you?" he asked softly. He couldn't stop staring at the vegetable—it was Naruto's symbol of devotion, the green cabbage, and since he had found her by the headstone, he knew she had never failed in dropping by with a fresh head of cabbage as a gift. It was her tradition that had never stopped even when they began sleeping with each other.
His unseeing eyes blinked at the sudden drop of white on a brown leaf. Another drop, and another. He looked up to the skies in childlike wonder.
It was snowing.
"You're so beautiful..."
Sasuke loved snow, loved their softness, their purity. How they cover all the beauty and ugliness in equal measure, until all what remained was a wonderland of white, vast and beautiful. It was a promise of cleansing. Of a chance to start all over again.
"Like the snow, white and beautiful..."
He could see the snowflakes dancing on her golden lashes, the rosy flush of her cheeks from the cold kisses of the snow.
"So, so cold. But with the right touch..."
He could see her arms spread wide, catching the snow with a playful tongue as she spun round and round, a summer angel laughing on her first winter night.
"... you melt and leave marks on the person who touched you."
He shook his head and stood up. This wasn't the time to dream. Something felt wrong, utterly wrong in this situation. It was in the icy breath of the night. In the unfriendly chill of the snow. It was in the layers of alarm hiding under flurries of frost, striking him to the core.
What once comforted him was causing him fear.
"Where are you?"
A metallic click.
Sasuke froze.
"Quite romantic, I believe," drawled a bland voice. "A rendezvous where man sleeps the dreamless sleep, with the first snow falling from the watching night sky. It couldn't be better if I planned it myself."
The voice came from behind him, from the tree Sasuke used to hide from when he used to come to watch her. He slowly turned around, his shoulders relaxed, his face blank. His mind recognized what was happening and screamed for him to run.
"But it wasn't up to me, after all," the stranger went on. Cautious dark eyes watched a figure step out of the shadows, a silver gun held by a big steady hand. A couple more steps and the stranger was washed in the soft winter moonlight.
A smooth chuckle. "Delivers, as always."
Sasuke knew who it was. The certainty was revolting.
"Madara."
The man raised a gloved hand, waving his index finger as if admonishing a child. "Now now, littlest Uchiha, you should not address your elder like so. This gun," he waved it around, "is loaded and I might be tempted to shoot you to remind you of manners."
He growled, hating the man with his every nerve, his every heartbeat. His parents' murderer, the reason his brother died. It was hard to believe at first sight—who could take a man in a one-eyed swirling orange mask seriously? And that cloak of black with red clouds, making its wearer appear a morbid doll in a long gown. He looked ridiculous, the bastard, but Sasuke couldn't laugh.
"Stop taunting him, Tobi," a cool voice said. Sasuke tried to look around his bastard of an uncle as unobtrusively as he could. Any lingering hope of escape died when he heard the second voice, knowing there was only a small possibility that he could get out of this one now. Why hadn't he listened to the ANBU? To her?
"Tobi is a good boy," Madara said in a childish voice. The bodiless voice snorted, clearly disbelieving. Sasuke didn't believe the bastard either.
"Kyuubi-chan shouldn't mock Tobi!" the overgrown child ranted, waving his hands in an agitated gesture. The gun drew a silver arc in the night.
"I know of only one person they would order to kill me. Only Kyuubi can match me."
His breath hitched.
"Besides, they've sent Kyuubi after you."
He could feel his body trembling. Trembling from a little fear, a great rage. It overrode his anger at his bastard of an uncle, nearly blinding him as red began to cloud his vision. Sasuke's fingers itched to feel that man's—Kyuubi, the motherfucker—neck around his hands, longed to feel his pulse speeding up in fear, despair, ached to feel the life seep out of him in minutes, in seconds. It was overwhelming, the desire to feel the man's blood soaking his white hands. Sasuke could feel its slippery warmth. Could taste its metallic tang. It would be wonderful.
"He won't be happy if I kill Kyuubi to avenge him, and I won't be able to live with myself because of it."
He stilled.
"Whatever happens, do not avenge me. I taught you better than that, Otouto.
Sasuke briefly closed his eyes. He couldn't do that to Itachi.
He opened his eyes and almost sighed when Madara half-turned to the shadows. The glint in the single eye, however, told him that he was being watched like a hawk, and Sasuke didn't dare move—not that he planned to, yet. The cemetery was an open field and no matter how far he ran, Madara would find him with a single bullet.
"Perhaps if you cease the idiocy, Tobi-tan," the second voice replied smoothly. Kyuubi, his mind supplied, feeling the hot anger buzz in his head. The voice was Kyuubi's, Itachi's murderer.
"Hn," Madara-Tobi huffed, before turning to Sasuke again. The change in stance was imperceptible but the manner was apparent. "I leave you my dearest nephew, Kyuubi. I am certain you will have some... fun tonight."
"Of course," Kyuubi said. "I did enjoy myself with the chase, after all."
Chase?
Sasuke could feel his heart hammering in his chest as Kyuubi lazily stepped forward, a confident predator toying with his prey. His footfalls were silent—familiar, like his voice—his body wrapped in shadows, despised by light. Kyuubi slowly stepped into the ring of light where Sasuke and Madara stood, into the ethereal stage crafted by the moon itself.
A hand in fingerless glove floated in the darkness, followed by an arm wrapped in black cloth. Next appeared a head of hair, gleaming an otherworldly white against the light of the moon, in lovely contrast with red laces disappearing to the darkness. Dark clouds rolled past—a shoulder in black, a torso in orange, a leg in orange with white bandages wrapped around an ankle, a foot in black boots. The foot stepped forward into the lit clearing, showing half of a face, its counterpart in the shadows. A face with scars, a curled upper lip, the head tilted down in careless disregard.
The head lifted up completely as the shadows melted away from the embrace of the light.
Dark eyes widened, swallowing a face that was suddenly white, whiter than the snow falling gently around him. No, this wasn't real. Impossible. This was a dream, a dream a dream a dream a dream!
Wake up, he pleaded. He couldn't even shut his eyes, so struck he was by the sight. Wake up, dammit!
"Why the face?" the person chuckled, eyes glowing with flecks of wild red against the still moon. "Weren't you looking for me?"
Sasuke couldn't speak. He wanted to but he couldn'tcouldn'tcouldn'tcouldn't.
Madara chuckled. "Do pardon his manners, Kyuubi. The ability to be mannerless spoiled brats are inclined to be innate in every Uchiha."
Whatever color Sasuke had completely drained out of his face.
Kyuubi. Madara called her Kyuubi.
"Oh, I know," Kyuubi waved off, a cocky tilt on her head, "but maybe it's from surprise? He misses me, y'know," she said in a loud stage-whisper. "Three days without me and he's dying," she ended with a dramatic sigh.
No. No.
She turned to look at him straight in the eye. "Wazzup, teme?"
Impossible unreal lies illusions wake up wake up wake up wake up—
"Oi. Bastard, you in there?"
His breath came out strangled. Her pink lips curved. Sasuke wanted to deny it.
"... Dobe?"
She leaned forward with a heartbreakingly familiar grin.
"Bingo."
Walk past the rain to the edge of the black night—beyond is the certainty of the clouds you had hoped for, of the white from the snow that you had yet to see.